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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163993">Family Emergency</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades'>TheAsexualofSpades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine Drabbles [50]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual Sherlock Holmes, Asexuality, Attempted Kidnapping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Holmes Brothers, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Kid Fic, Mycroft got into college at a very young age that's the tea, Panic Attacks, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock is a smart child, he said 'you want it? go get it STREET SMARTS', kid!Sherlock, no i'm not, teen!Mycroft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:09:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163993</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft had made it very clear that he is not to be called, outside of preplanned affairs, unless it is an absolute emergency. Sherlock isn't one for rules, but in this case, he's following them to the letter. </p><p>Someone tries to kidnap Mycroft's brother.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes &amp; Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine Drabbles [50]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>309</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Family Emergency</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>wanted to try my hand at kid!lock lemme know what y'all think</p><p>also yes there are references in here to things I am a nerd we know this</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fandom: Sherlock {BBC)</p><p>Prompt: “I don’t know where I am. Help me.”</p>
<hr/><p>Mycroft’s personal phone doesn’t ring often. Mummy knows he can be reached perfectly well through his email and he is no more likely to respond to a text than the email, unless it is their once a month pre-planned call. He’s instructed people only to call when it’s an absolute emergency.</p><p> </p><p>The caller ID reads <em>Sherlock Holmes.</em></p><p> </p><p>There’s a 27% chance that Sherlock is ignoring the ‘emergency only’ rule and is calling to get Mycroft’s help at winning an argument. There’s a 62% chance whatever Sherlock is calling about, <em>he </em>deems it an emergency. He can’t find his microscope, some experiment went wrong and he needs to clean it up before Mummy and Daddy see, something like that.</p><p> </p><p>It’s the last 11% that makes Mycroft answer the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it, Sherlock,” he says bluntly, “I have work to d—“</p><p> </p><p>The strangled sob cuts him off.</p><p> </p><p>His gaze darts around. All of his peers are focused on their own work, not paying attention to the boy in the corner. He stands, quickly making his way to his own dorm, pulling on his jacket as he goes.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock,” he murmurs, making an effort to gentle his voice, “what’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Myc-Mycroft?” Mycroft’s chest clenches at how <em>small </em>his brother sounds.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sherlock, it’s me, you called me, remember?” If Sherlock can’t remember he dialed Mycroft’s phone, this is a bigger emergency than he thought.</p><p> </p><p>“I…I called you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sherlock, that’s right.”</p><p> </p><p>“I—I need—need help.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft curses under his breath. Sherlock <em>never </em>asks for help. His brother will ‘require assistance’ on occasion but <em>never </em>‘needs help.’</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the matter,” Mycroft says, ducking into his room long enough to grab keys, wallet, security pass, and backup charger, “can you tell me what’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“I—“ Sherlock’s breath hitches and Mycroft freezes, waiting for the exhale to confirm his brother’s still with him. “I don’t know where I am. Help me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean,” Mycroft asks, blood running cold, “you don’t know where you are?”</p><p> </p><p>“S-some people put me in a car—“ <em>No, not my brother, not my Sherlock— </em>“a-and they tried to take me away.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft breaks into a run, unlocking his car and all but throwing himself behind the wheel.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m putting you on speaker, Sherlock,” he says, fumbling to get the buttons, “I’m in my car, can you hear me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” Mycroft says, trying not to wince when he hears Sherlock’s sniffles filing the car, “Sherlock, listen to me, this is important.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can they still find you?”</p><p> </p><p>He hears the rustle of black curls against the receiver followed by a quiet ‘no.’ “I—I jumped out of the car and ran away. I lost them in a crowd and—and now I—“</p><p> </p><p>“Calm down,” Mycroft says through gritted teeth, valiantly trying to follow the same advice, “calm down, Sherlock, it’s alright, I’m not cross with you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I am cross with whoever let you wander off and almost get kidnapped.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Y-you’re not?”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft frowns at the disbelief in his brother’s voice. “No, of course not, Sherlock. Why don’t you help me figure out where you are, and I’ll come to tell you in person?”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock sniffles again. God, each one settles like a dead weight in Mycroft’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock?”</p><p> </p><p>“O-okay.” Mycroft hears what sounds like a swallow and pictures a tiny, skinny little toddler with black curls raising his chin with the determination of a soldier. The child’s chin wobbles as he swipes angrily at his cheeks. “Are we going to do the senses test?”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft can’t fight the glimmer of pride that colors his voice. “Yes, that’s a very good idea. Can you tell me five things you can see?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can see…a big red bus—“ <em>so he’s near a busy street— </em>“lots of people—“ <em>crowded, near the shopping district?— </em>“billboards—“ <em>shopping district it is—</em> “a bright yellow hat, and a dog with a blue collar.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good job.” Mycroft swings around a corner, waving at another driver who blows his horn. “Can you name four things you can hear?”</p><p> </p><p>“The bus…someone’s selling newspapers on the corner—“ <em>what is this, 1899? Probably means he’s near the less popular areas— </em>“a train going by, I think I’m near an Underground station?”</p><p> </p><p>Alright, that helps. Mycroft starts looking out the window, trying to calibrate the map in his head. “Good. Can you name one more thing you can hear?”</p><p> </p><p>“…I can hear you, My-Mycroft.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft swallows the lump in his throat at his brother’s apprehension and clears his throat. “I’m right here, Sherlock, and I’m on my way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you tell me three things you can touch?” At this point, it’s less about where he is and more about getting him to calm down.</p><p> </p><p>“My sweater, it’s pilling again…the telephone is cold…and the poster in here is all crumpled.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you in a telephone booth, Sherlock?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft pulls up to the shopping district and parks in the first spot he can see. Putting the phone back to his ear, he dashes out, scanning for the red booths.</p><p><br/>
“We’re almost there, Sherlock,” he says, beginning to weave his way through the crowds of shoppers, “two things you can smell?”</p><p> </p><p>“M-my nose is stuffed up.” Mycroft’s chest clenches again. “I-I can’t smell much.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you try, please, Sherlock? For me?” <em>There’s the line. </em>Mycroft makes a beeline for the row of telephone booths he can see on the other side of the street.</p><p> </p><p>The sharp sniffles from the other end of the line spur him on, peering into each booth, hoping to see the familiar black curls.</p><p> </p><p>“Petrol…I can smell petrol. There’s a bus right next to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft scans the road. There’s a bus parked up ahead. Heart pounding, he runs for it, As it pulls away, he sees there’s no telephone booth behind it.</p><p><br/>
“One more thing you can smell, Sherlock, come on…”</p><p> </p><p>“I…” Mycroft’s heart beats wildly in his throat as he waits, still turning around and around to try and catch a glimpse of whatever Sherlock can smell. “I think it’s…books? The paper smell?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Books.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft’s eyes dart over the awnings, finally landing on a dark green awning with an image of books. There’s a red telephone booth sitting at its base, right next to a big red bus. Inside, just visible through the foggy windows, are black curls and a sweater too big for the frame it sits on.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock,” Mycroft breathes in relief, starting to run toward the booth, “Sherlock, I see you. I’m coming.”</p><p> </p><p>He dodges the cars the beep angrily at him, muttering halfhearted apologies to the pedestrians he knocks into, focused on getting to the booth, to his brother—</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock’s eyes meet his during his mad dash and he lets the phone fall, stumbling out of the booth and running to meet him.</p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft!”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft sweeps him up into a tight hug, burying his nose in Sherlock’s black curls and leaning against a nearby light post for support. He’s got him. He’s safe. He has his brother back.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m—I’m sorry, Mycroft,” Sherlock cries, sobs beginning anew, “I made you leave school—“</p><p> </p><p>“Shh,” Mycroft hushes his brother, “I’m not cross. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock’s little arms wind around his neck, oblivious to the looks they’re starting to get from passers-by. The whole lot of them can sod off.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on,” Mycroft murmurs eventually, “come on, Sherlock, let’s go home.”</p><p> </p><p>“A-are you coming?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Sherlock—“ <em>I’m not letting you out of my sight— </em>“I’m coming too.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what about school?”</p><p> </p><p>“It can wait for one night.”</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock doesn’t want to be put down, and to be honest, Mycroft doesn’t want to put him down. So he carries his little brother back to his car, strapping him in tight and driving off. Sherlock’s fingers tighten on the door handle and he looks out the window.</p><p> </p><p>“Do…do you want me to tell you what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not right now,” Mycroft says, “let’s go home, we’ll have something warm to drink, and then you can tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Mycroft.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft catches Sherlock’s gaze in the mirror. “Of course, Sherlock, you’re my brother.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Whoever was in charge of Sherlock today is getting a stern talking to</em>, he decides firmly, watching his brother’s head start to slump against the back seat, worn out.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m happy you called me,” Mycroft murmurs as Sherlock falls asleep in the back of his car, “thank <em>you, </em>Sherlock.”</p><p> </p><p>When he pulls up in front of their house, his phone buzzes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>+44 7911 763843: Hey where’d you go</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As he gets out of the car to pull his sleeping brother into his arms, he types out a reply before tucking his phone firmly into his pocket.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Family emergency. - MH</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine.</p><p>https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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